National Holiday
by Painful Rhyme
Summary: When Princess Bubblegum lets Marceline down, an unlikely source comes to comfort her. Oneshot.


**Thanks to Verthanthi, who was kind enough to read my story and gave me some valuable insight, and who has written several great stories about Bonnie and Marceline, and indeed inspired me to write this. **

Marceline's eyes fluttered open for a few seconds before sealing themselves again, still too tired to make an effort. She shifted her position, turning from her side to lying face-first in the pillow. Thankfully, this suppressed any more protests by her body that urged her to get out of bed and start her day properly. For another half hour, she lived peacefully in dreamland, where apples were plentiful and people gave away free guitars on street corners. The talented rocker was just strumming the opening chords of her new song when she was pulled out of her fanciful utopia by three words: _  
_

It's my birthday!

The vampiress had been so determined to get a few more minutes of sweet, sweet slumber that she'd forgotten her own special day. For vampires who resided in Ooo, it was a national holiday. Of course, she was the _only _such creature in Ooo, but the point still endured. Marceline donned a new outfit for the occasion, one she'd been saving for this event. A new scarlet jacket fashioned from the hide of a woolly ogre - brutish beasts who terrorized merchants in the badlands - and pants spun from the glistening silk of a spider queen that she'd slayed while adventuring with Finn. She loved exotic clothing; it was a major improvement from the old 'scavenge whatever materials you can and shove your limbs through them' approach of her childhood in the apocalypse. To top it off, she wore shiny black boots bartered from a dealer at some marketplace or the other.

Marceline _did _want to look nice on her birthday, but, she had ulterior motives. She would never admit to anyone: to impress her girlfriend, the princess of the Candy Kingdom, Bonnibel Bubblegum. Yeah, sure, she knew that Bonnie would love her regardless of what clothes she wore, and all of that hippie stuff, but _still_. It couldn't hurt to put a little effort into it, right?

Looking over herself in the mirror, which she'd had enchanted to show a vampire's reflection, Marceline decided that she looked good enough to verge from her damp cave. Satisfied, she grabbed her umbrella, a plain purple tool, and exited her house. To her surprise, a giant wooden crate lay but a foot away from her doorstep. A note was taped to the top. She recognized Finn's messy scrawl, and a smile crept onto her face as she read it.

_Dear Marci,_

_We are absolutely__ broke, so for your birthday we got you a bunch of apples, hand-picked from the Orchard of The Deadly Fruit. Sounds exciting, right? Tell us if the apples do anything weird when you eat them._

_P.S. Watch out for the pincers. _

_F and J_

Marceline sat the note aside and gave the box a firm kick. Sure enough, she heard a frenzied rhythm of snaps and clicks. She walked around it, not at all fond of food that bites back. Were regular apples too hard to come by? She supposed she should know better, for Finn was unsatisfied by regular _anythings_. He was crazy about magic and enchantments. The more dangerous it was, the more it appealed to him.

Then she realized that her clothing was made out of some of the most exotic creatures in Ooo. _What do you know, _she thought, _I'm a hypocrite. _

Her mood un-dampened, she set off towards the Candy Kingdom, ready for an awesome day with Bonnibel. The rays of the sun did their best to penetrate Marceline's umbrella, but it was no use. All she felt was a tiny warmth envelop her skin, reminiscent of sitting in front of a fireplace.

Marceline flew above the mighty walls of the kingdom, not setting off any alarms. She had become quite a common sight, with rumors about her relationship with the princess popping up everywhere. The thousand year old beauty alighted onto the windowsill of the princess's room, a few hundred feet in the air. She peeked into the window. No sign of Bonni. She gently pushed the glass pane inward, coming inside. She flew around the room. PB's round bed was already made. The fanged musician peeked into the bathroom, a growing sense of dread coming over her. No one.

She exited the room through the giant purple doors, surprising the guards on duty. Before they could question why she was there, Marceline spoke to them, her voice tinted with worry.

"Where's the princess? Me and her were supposed to do... somethings together, today."

The senior banana guard answered her. "Princess Bubblegum is away on an meeting. She's not expected to be back until nightfall."

Marceline's stomach churned, and she felt a horrible feeling scratch at her throat. "What? She said... she said she had cleared her schedule. Bonni's supposed to be free today!"

The guards shrugged, unaware of the importance of the day. "Sorry, scary lady."

She grit her teeth, holding back tears. Why would Bonnibel do this to her? She knew it was today!

"It's not like she could've planned this meeting so early, it's eleven AM!" Marceline protested.

The guards shrugged once more. "Ma'am, are you alright?"

"I'm... I'm fine. Excuse me."

She went back into Bonni's room, and sat on the bed. Her spindly fingers explored the soft blankets as her mind raced, searching for an explanation. Surely Bonnie would have known about the meeting ahead of time. No one arranges meetings the day of! Could it be that it was an emergency? That was the only explanation she wanted to face. Marceline stepped onto the windowsill, and gazed out at the city below. How could PB balance her responsibilities to her people with the time that was spent with her girlfriend? Confused and miserable, she soared over the kingdom and rushed to her house.

She kicked the crate of apples once more, sending the monster-fruit hybrids into a furious mania. Marceline laid down on her couch and closed her eyes. For a few minutes she lay in silence, trying to calm herself. Then she heard the knocking at the door.

Marceline answered it in despite of her melancholic mood, daring to hope it was Bonnibel, come back to apologize. Instead almost to her disappointment, the Ice King stood there, with a kooky grin on his face.

"Marceline, hey! I heard you were sad and I'd thought I'd come cheer you up. I never fail to help a damsel in distress."

The vampiress paused, taking in the ludicrous statement, which was so ridiculous it almost pulled her out of her stupor. "What? Simon, how'd you even know I was sad? Have you been stalking me again?"

The old coot held his hands up in defense. "No! No, nothing like that. I just heard you sobbing as you flew by my palace."

"I wasn't sobbing."

"Darling, everyone on this side of the river heard you."

Marceline sighed. "There is no river, Simon."

Ice King ignored her barged into the living room, plopping himself down on the rock-hard couch. "So, tell your uncle Ice King what's wrong. Money troubles? Pet penguins leading a revolt against you? I'm all ears."

"Well, I -"

"Oh, and before I forget, I charge 50$ an hour for my services, with a base fee of 65$. Go on."

Marceline pretended she hadn't heard him. "So today's my birthday, and -"

"You don't say! You must be, what, 22, 15?... 47?"

"I'm a thousand and five, Simon. Now be quiet for a second. Like I said, it's my birthday, and I was supposed to see Princess Bubblegum -"

"Ooh, you got a hot date with PB? Lucky dog! You wouldn't believe what it takes to get her to talk to me."

"- Except she was off on a meeting somewhere, and apparently that takes priority over me. And this really ticks me off. That's all."

Ice King mused this over for a few seconds, rubbing his chin. Then his face brightened, and he spoke up.

"Maybe she's losing interest in you. You gotta do something to keep 'em coming back, y'know? I recommend taking her in her sleep and locking her up somewhere until you've convinced her to love you, and everyone will be happy. Of course, until Finn and Jake come and break your nose a few times, then you gotta lie low for a few weeks and try again."

"I obviously went to the wrong person for this."

The blue old man patted her head, gently. "No, dear, the wrong person came to _you_."


End file.
